


Loud, Silent

by eromist92



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eromist92/pseuds/eromist92
Summary: What happens when a virus breaks out and they have to rely on each other to stay alive?





	1. Chapter 1

The hotel room was quiet. Outside, the night was dark, with a clear and cold sky. A large moon shone down onto the water, causing it to sparkle like crystals. The stars were scattered, dotted all across the black sky. It was clearly a beautiful night, however, after an exhausting journey here, four friends were missing this night due to much needed sleep. There heavy breathing and one snorer, echoed throughout the room. Thankfully the walls were thick, so their roadies managed to sleep on in the room next door. The staff had closed off the top floor of the hotel, so The Beatles wouldn't get disturbed by any fans, whilst they were here in Kirkcaldy. The band didn't know what to think of this town. It was pretty being by the sea but there was a mix of people that lived here. Most of them being very loud, though the other half were posh and well educated. They liked their fans to have fun at the concerts but they did miss the sound of their own instruments. It was like that in most places though, the fans were always screaming, crying and cheering - making it nearly impossible for The Beatles to hear what they were playing and singing. Luckily enough, they knew their songs like the back of their hands, so somehow managed to keep in time and in tune. So, Kirkcaldy was pretty much like any other venue in Britain, as far as the fans were concerned, that is.  
A wind managed to pick up around one in the morning, which rattled the windows. If it wasn't Ringo's nose that woke them, it was the weather coming from outside. The Beatles had learned to be very light sleepers when on tour. For a few times, fans had managed to sneak into their hotel rooms. They had no idea how, it was impossible but they were sneaky and found a way. Tonight, however, the wind from outside had woke up the bass player, Paul. He sat up, grumbled and looked around the dark room, finding something to blame. At first, he thought Ringo but then he heard the wind again. It was screaming at him, demanding attention like a new born baby.

"Jesus". He whispered, glaring at the window, which was supposed to be sound proof. Paul made a mental note to complain about the noise the next morning.  
"Fans?" John mumbled from the other bed.  
"Wind".  
"Never-" he said before a yawn, "its loud".  
"I know". Paul agreed, "starting to sound like someone’s actually screaming now".  
"You reckon it is?" John asked, stretching his arms over his head. "Time is it?"  
"Like-" he quickly checked his watch, "half one".  
"Suppose we should get some breakfast, eh?" He joked, as he sat up and left the warm bed.  
"Don't make jokes. It’s too early".  
"Half one is the perfect time for jokes, Macca". John stated, "all the comedians are better at night".  
"Ah-" Paul acknowledged, "suppose that's why you're asleep all night, eh?"  
"Piss off". 

Paul watched as the guitar player walked towards the window. John's hand was on the curtain, though he made no move to open it yet. The bass player rolled his eyes and got up, joining his friend at the window with an impatient look on his face.  
"What?" John asked innocently, "you want me to open it?"  
"No - I want you stand here all night". He remarked sarcastically. "Let’s just open it and see how bad the waves are with that wind-"  
"thought you said it were people-"  
"never". He disagreed, "said it sounded like people".  
"So, what the hell are we doing here then?" John asked, "just admiring the wind? Which we can't actually see".  
"John-" Paul sighed in annoyance, "stop being difficult...just open the curtain-"  
"I think not". He smirked, "if it’s just the wind, then-"  
"you're really starting to get on my nerves, Lennon". Paul glared, tapping his foot.  
"Sorry, Macca". John chuckled quietly, "I'm only messing-"  
"when are you not".  
John frowned and cleared his throat before he pulled back the curtain a little and looked outside. Paul tried to look but couldn't, his friends head was blocking the way, however, he could see John's face turning red from a light outside.  
"John-" he asked him anxiously, "what's going on? Why is your face all red?"  
He never said anything. John only closed the curtain and turned to face the bass player, all teasing and humour had left his features. "We need to leave".  
"What?" Paul whispered, still thinking this was a joke. "What are you-"  
"Ringo, George-" John called loudly, kicking the ends of the beds. "Get up. We're leaving".  
"What-"  
"hey...was sleeping".  
"I don't care". John brought out the suitcases and opened the drawers, beginning to chuck all of their clothes out and onto the beds. "Pack everything, let’s go". 

Paul was still at the window. Before he agreed to go, he needed to know why. He slowly opened the curtain and what met his sight, shocked him. It looked like some sort of riot, cars and buildings were all on fire and people were running. The only difference between this and a riot was, the people who were running, screamed. Paul could see their red and inflamed eyes, with blood covering their faces and clothes. On the street, everyone was running. The runners with red eyes would rugby tackle others onto the ground and what Paul saw next almost made him sick. One of the runners dug its thumbs into someone's eye sockets, killing them. And after, they would scream and take off into a sprint to another person. The bass player turned away from the window, face pale and body shaking.  
"John's serious". He whispered, "we need to get out of here, now".  
"Why, what's-"  
"no, George!" John quickly grabbed the youngest arm, "just...help me pack, alright?"  
Ringo chewed on his bottom lip, "what's going on, lads?"  
"Something bad, Rings-"  
"and God knows what that is".


	2. Chapter 2

John took the lead. He felt responsible for his friend’s safety, somehow. And having this responsibility, hanging over his shoulders, helped him push on and open their hotel room door. The lights in the hall were flickering, though everything else looked untouched and undamaged. John then remembered that the staff had closed this floor off, so maybe they would be safe up here. The rest wanted to get out of here and find somewhere quiet and it was John's idea in the first place. The roadies had the van, they could drive them to a quiet and secluded village and wait until this whole thing blows over. However, not knowing what this thing was, frightened them even more. Neither of them had any theories and George didn't have a clue on what was going on outside. The lead guitarist had to find out eventually, he wasn't fourteen anymore. He was twenty, twenty-one in February, it wasn't fair to keep this from him but they still saw George Harrison as their kid brother and wanted to shield and protect him from this. George didn't understand this though and followed them, not too happily.  
"If you told me, then-"  
"shut up, George". John hissed, as they walked towards the room next to theirs. "Later, okay?"  
"Should we knock?" Paul asked, once they reached the hotel room door.  
"Of course-" Ringo nodded, "they'll be asleep".  
Just as John was about to knock, however, the door opened and Mal appeared. He looked shaken and scared, as he practically dragged the band inside the room and locked the door behind them. "Good. You packed". He whispered, "Neil's in the toilet, getting our stuff".  
"What do we do, Mal?" Paul asked, "can you get us somewhere safe?"  
"Of course! Brian will kill me if I don't".  
John smirked, "that he will". He walked towards the window and looked outside, "its mobbed out there. How do we get to the car from here?"  
Neil soon appeared with their toiletries in hand. He nodded towards a map on the wall, showing all the emergencies exits in case of a fire. "Stairs, they'll lead us to the garage where the van is".  
"And then?" Asked Ringo, who was looking over John's shoulder.  
"We just drive". Mal shrugged, "until we find somewhere safe, that is".  
After getting everything packed and together, The Beatles followed behind Mal, whilst Neil took the back. They didn't have any weapons apart from a Stanley knife and a bat, which Mal always carried in case someone threatened the band. He never used it before but had a gut feeling that he would need to tonight. He reached the door which opened to the corridor with the stairs and he almost pulled back from this mission, when he saw the lights were off.  
"No power".  
"We don't have a torch?" Ringo quaked.  
"No". Mal sighed, "didn't think we'd ever need one".  
"Here-" John took out a lighter from his pocket and gave it to the roadie, "don't use it all at once now, okay?"  
"Cheers, let’s go". Mal opened the door and flicked on the small flame. It didn't do much but it was enough to see where he was going, so he could lead the others safely down the stairs. It was quiet, save their own footsteps and breathing. Most of them tried to quieten the noises they were making by shortening their breath, so it didn't make as much noise but after a while, it made them feel lightheaded so they had to stop. The stairs rail was located on the right, they all kept a firm hold of the metal, which felt cold to the touch. Mal relied on this, the rail would tell him where the next flooring was and which floor they were on. So, when he felt the rail shorten, he held up his hand to stop the boys behind them. "Get down". He instructed, "I'll check and see if we're good to go".  
"Be careful". Paul warned, from his crouched position. 

Mal walked onto the flooring. Once there, he saw a set of double doors, which led into another hallway with rooms. The lights were flickering and he couldn't see anyone but he did see a lot of open doors and damaged furniture. Mal backed away from the door, "alright...let’s go". The six of them began walking down the stairs and placed their hands back on the railing but Mal suddenly stopped again, when his hand was met thick and warm liquid.  
"Mal?" Neil whispered from the back, "what's going on, mate?"  
"Blood". He managed to blow out the small flame, just as the word left his mouth. And in the darkness, they could hear someone hissing from the other landing. Mal put his arms to the side of him, blocking anyone from coming forward.  
"Mal-"  
"quiet". He whispered, turning to face the others. "Ones down there". He said, pointing down at the stairs in front of him.  
George gripped onto John, "what do we do?" 

The hissing grew louder and without warning, there came a loud scream and fast and heavy footsteps, running up the stairs. Mal gripped onto his bat, backing up so the others would hopefully take the hint and run. "Head for the landing, come on!" He urged them all loudly.  
"Dam-" Neil hissed, "come on, lads". He yelled, grabbing the closest Beatle, Ringo and pulling him back up the stairs.  
A body crashed into Mal, hands and fingers trying to rip into his flesh. The person was screaming in his face, blood and spit pouring down his mouth and eyes. Their fingers were aiming for Mal's eyes and before he knew it, he could feel a searing hot pain in his head.  
"Mal!" John screamed, picking up the bat which Mal had dropped. He smacked the person over the head but they wouldn't move. "Get off him! Get off-"  
"John!" George shouted, grabbing onto John's shirt.  
"Get off-" and with the tenth smack, the person fell, leaving Mal's lifeless body.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is he...".  
"No". John could still feel a pulse, his eyes weren't as bad as he thought, they were still in their sockets. "He's okay". Picking up the lighter, he flicked on the flame and saw the body of a dead woman, near the roadie. "What happened to them?"   
"No idea-" Paul whispered, dropping to John's side.   
"It’s like they've all got this virus". Neil said, getting back up from the woman's body. "Her forehead's really warm...she must have had a fever".   
"Great". John mumbled, "so I killed a sick girl...that's just, fantastic".   
"She was going to kill, Mal. You were only protecting him, mate". Ringo assured quietly, though his eyes were wide with terror at what he just witnessed.   
"Is this what you saw from the window?" George asked, his voice shaking. "All this and... why didn't you just tell me?"   
"I didn't want you to see". John admitted, "not that it would have made any difference".   
"We need to get out of here". Neil suggested, "we can't go down that way though".   
"So, what do we do?" Paul asked, "how do we get to the car?"   
"We don't". He said, "not yet, anyway. It’s too dangerous".   
"You're telling me". John muttered, "should we head back to our room?"   
"Yeah". Neil nodded, "we need to get Mal though, I'll need your help in carrying him. He's a big lad". 

John and Paul got back up, letting Neil figure out the best way to carry the roadie. But just as he pressed his hand against Mal's forehead, only to find that he was very warm, his eyes snapped open. The others would have been happy for their friends return, only Mal's eyes were red and blood was trailing down from the tear ducts. Neil was about to warn the others to run but instead, let out a pain filled scream when Mal bit into his arm.   
"Jesus!" Ringo yelled, "we need to run!" 

Mal looked up and hissed, his bloodied teeth bared together, as if he was some wild animal on a hunt. The roadie got up and made to run but before he could catch Paul, the Beatles had already taken off back up the stairs. They could hear Mal screaming from behind them, as they pushed themselves into a fast sprint, taking two steps at a time. Paul almost tripped a few times but John, who was at the back, caught him each time.   
"I can't do it!" George would cry out, almost sobbing.   
"You can-" John urged loudly from the back, "keep running, we're almost there!" 

When they reached their landing, John shut the door, allowing his friends to run towards the room and get inside. He could feel Mal's body crashing into the door and wondered if he had just made the most stupid mistake of his life.   
"John!" Paul hissed, eyes shining. "Get the hell over here, now!"   
Grunting with effort, he pushed himself off from the door and began to sprint down the hallway. He could feel Mal behind him; his heavy breath was almost touching his neck. Mal's long fingers touched John's back, which caused the guitarist to push on. The screams coming from the roadie was deafening but John soon reached Paul and together, they shut and locked the door. Stepping back, they saw the wood rattle. Mal was punching the door, screaming behind it and rattling his head against the wood. Ringo came forward soon after, pushing the couch towards the door. The other two helped him and began to move other heavy objects against it, hoping that the door would stay put until they figured out what to do next. 

George let out a choked sob and slid onto the floor, covering his eyes with his hands. Feeling his heart shatter, John sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around the lead guitarist, offering what comfort he could at a time like this.   
"It’s okay, you know". John murmured gently, "we don't think any less of you, it’s alright".   
Ringo swallowed back his own lump and sat down on the other side of George, whilst Paul sat down next to John, staring at the rattling door. "What do we do, John?"   
"We stay here-" John whispered, keeping his voice soft for George's sake. "And we stay safe until this thing blows over, got it?"  
"Right-" the bass player replied, "what about...Mal?"  
George's breathing hitched, John held on tighter. "I don't know, Macca". John admitted sadly, "I just want to keep you all safe".   
Ringo placed his head on top of George's, "We know that, John".   
"What if...". But Paul shook his head, "yeah, we'll be safe here".  
"We need to gather what we have in this hotel". John went on, "water, food. And the power will go out soon, so there's that".   
"We have a lighter-"  
"with nothing to burn".   
"But wait-" Ringo smiled and sat up, before he tore off a bit of his shirt. "This should start off a fire to keep us warm. We could use the wood from the tables and put them in the fire place".   
"Clever boy". John smirked, "wait till the powers completely out though, alright? I don't want to draw attention to us".  
"So, I wasted a perfectly good pyjama shirt, for no reason then?"   
"Are you trying to be funny?" Paul asked, a playful smile on his lips. "Because a man once told me that, comedians are always best at night".   
"Oh really?"  
"Hey!" John huffed out, "it’s practically morning now, you numpty".  
"So, I'm not fun?" The drummer pouted.   
"Sorry mate, not today". 

The banging from the door continued, though John tried to keep his friends distracted. Eventually, the power went out and a few hours later, it got cold. The Beatles wondered how long this would last and if they'd have enough to keep them going. But even with Mal banging away at the door, they felt optimistic that they'd get out of this.


	4. Chapter 4

After six days, they ran out of food. All they had now was one bottle of water left, the water from the taps had stopped working soon after the power went off. They were slowly going mad, Mal had a few other friends with him now. John could have sworn there was at least six of them, one being Neil, of course. Paul kept an eye outside, always watching out the window. So far, there had been no sign of anyone that wasn't infected. And the people who were, just ran back and forth, looking for their next victim. The bass player was looking for the British army, who was sure to help soon enough. This had been going on for six days now and Paul was positive that help would arrive soon. Ringo was more concerned about their next meal, he knew they would eventually need to get out and look for some food but John would never allow that. He didn't want to lose any of his friends to those who were infected. And George just stayed in the corner, quietly re-reading his comics. He was trying to picture himself elsewhere, so he could phase out all that was around him. The others didn't object to this and they all let each other do what they had to do, to keep sane. 

"We need water, John". Ringo told him, "we'll get sick if we don't drink soon".  
"I know". He agreed quietly, "but...we can't go out there, Rings. We'll die".  
"We'll die in here". Ringo hissed, "and I don't want to die this slow death".  
John clenched his jaw, feeling his eyes burn with unwanted tears. "Me neither".  
"Then what are we doing here, John?" He asked, more softly now. "What do we do here, John?"  
"I don't know". He choked out, "I just...we can't lose anyone".  
Ringo sat down next to him, facing the door, which was still boarded up with heavy furniture. The drummer placed a hand on John's shoulder, "I don't either. The thought kills me, John".  
"So, let’s not think about it". He said, sniffing and quickly wiping his eyes.

***

On the seventh day, the water bottle was empty. No one complained about being thirsty yet, knowing it was useless. Complaining wouldn't bring water to them and it would only waste energy. The furniture by the door was still holding up, but more hissing and pounding was heard, meaning Mal had gathered more of the infected. And with all that banging, came the sleep deprivation. Not only were they scared but it was impossible to sleep with all that noise. They had tried locking themselves into the bathroom and huddling up into the tub but nothing could protect them or block the noise coming from the angry infected. Which led to them breaking easily, at the lightest of noise coming from in the room. Paul banged into the table and John flinched, panted and looked widely around him. Ringo closed the bathroom door and George ran into the corner of the room, shaking with fear.

"This isn't working". Paul rasped, trying to console the lead guitarist. "We're tired and thirsty...we need to sleep".  
"We can't". John whispered, leaning his head back against the wall. "It’s too noisy, Macca. But I will get us water, I promise".  
"How?"  
"I'll go to the next room-"  
"you can't". Ringo protested weakly, "how will you do that? Our doors blocked with the infected".  
"I'll smash the wall". He told them, "and get in that way".  
"With what?" Paul asked, "we don't have a hammer or that".  
"I'll find something-"  
"wonder if mums making tea". George whispered from the corner, "its Sunday, right? She's probably making a roast".  
"You reckon?" Paul asked him lightly.  
"Is it Sunday already?" Ringo breathed out, licking his dry lips. "Feels like we've been here for months...how’s your lips, George?"  
"Sore". The youngest admitted, pursing his cracked and blistered lips. "It’s just cause am thirsty, though".  
"You're not well either, Georgie". Paul reminded him, "none of us are-"  
"I'll get water". John gritted out, "said that, didn't I?"  
"Can we build a fire now?" Paul asked, "it’s getting cold in here".  
Ringo picked up the fabric he tore off seven days ago, "still got this...we can use it".  
"Go on then". 

The drummer carefully got onto his feet and walked towards the fireplace. He grabbed the bible from the floor and began to rip the pages out.  
"That's no good on a Sunday". John joked, "God won't be pleased".  
"Yeah, well-" he said, throwing the pages into the fireplace. "He's doing nowt to help us, is he?"  
"He sort of is now". Paul added, earning himself a few weak chuckles. "See? A fire makes everything better".  
A particularly loud bang came from the door, causing the chair to move. The Beatles stared at the chair, each holding their breath. It only moved a few inches away from the door but it was enough for time to stand still and for absolute terror to sink in. Ringo was the first to look away and he continued with make this fire, as if nothing had happened. He flicked on the lighter and set it alight to the fabric, before throwing it in. A small flame soon lightened up the dark room, and a new feeling of warmth ran through the drummer’s body.  
"It feels nice". He mumbled, "you should all come over here and keep warm".  
Very quietly, the others soon crawled towards the fire. Their bodies reacted to the heat and began to warm up, almost instantly. Paul smiled a little, soon forgetting about the chair that moved away from the door.  
"This is nice". George whispered, "I forgot how good a fire felt".  
"We've never had to use one before". Ringo said, "always relied on radiators".  
"You were right, Macca". John smiled small, "a fire does make everything better".


	5. Chapter 5

They were incredibly lucky. It had been a week and the infected hadn't broken through the door and into the room yet. John figured they must have been getting weak as well but were too stubborn and angry to give up on trying to kill the most popular band in Britain. He did often wonder if the rest of the world was destroyed by this virus, or whatever it was. And like the rest of his friends, he wished his family back in Liverpool were safe. Just the thought of his Aunt Mimi fighting alone caused the young man to feel sick to his stomach, and apart from the sheer terror of dying and the infected on the other side of the door, the thought of his Aunt Mimi being alone and scared, kept him up most nights. 

"George fainted again". Paul told John, who was busy keeping the fire alive.  
"Can't blame him...is he asleep?"  
"Barely".  
John leaned back from the fire, when he felt his face gathering too much heat. "I've ran out of ideas, Macca. I don't think I can get water".  
"I know". Paul whispered, "you can't break the wall down, mate. We get it-"  
"I've failed, you know. I needed to get water and you're all practically dying". John muttered out bitterly, as tears rolled down his face.  
"Don't you start-" Paul hissed fiercely, "no self-loathing. Not here. It’s not your fault that we're here, if anything, you've kept us alive that little bit longer".  
"We're suffering, Macca".  
Paul smiled sadly, as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. "But we're together and that's all we care about".  
"If they break through that door". John told him lowly, "then we'll be too weak to fight them off".  
"I know". He agreed, "I have an idea though and you probably won't like it".  
"When have I ever liked your ideas, Macca?"

***

The chair had soon moved far away from the door, by being pushed from the other furniture which was now backing away too. The chances of the infected breaking in was highly possible now but they had known that for the past three days. And the chances of staying alive and fighting them off was low, they were weak and barely able to stand. Paul was the next to succumb random fainting spells, only he'd stay down a lot longer than George had. Being this hungry was obsessive, all they could think about was food. It was in their dreams and the first thought when they woke up. And if not food, then water. The dehydration was their biggest killer, it lurked behind them like a blanket of death, awaiting until they eventually gave up. The infected didn't seem as scary as dying from being too thirsty. Ringo became too quiet; his throat was too sore to speak. And John stopped making jokes and trying to lighten the mood in their small room. But the banging continued, like a bully who constantly tormented them. Each noise still caused them to flinch and if not the dehydration, the fear exhausted them as well.

One the eighth day, a piece of wood from the door fell to the ground. Mal's hand appeared on their side of the room. They didn't have long to go now and Paul, who was laying down, staring at the door reached into his pockets.  
"Sleeping pills". He slurred, "if we-"  
"no". George whispered, "m'not doing that, Paul".  
"We're going to die, George". Paul then snapped and repeated this louder, "we're going to die!" The terror was evident in his voice, as were the dry and tear-less sobs. "And I'm not ready".  
"He's right". Came Ringo's raspy voice, "we're not ready but...we have to do this". 

John, who was sitting up, stared at his weak friends, laying on the floor. They were scared, all petrified at the thought of taking their own lives and John couldn't stand to see that. He wanted nothing more, than his friends to get out of here and aim to survive this. But he didn't want to leave them, his chances were low and he was terrified of leaving them and his Aunt Mimi. "No one’s going to die".  
"Yes". Paul choked out, "we are". 

"No". John stated firmly, grabbing onto Paul's hand, which were still grasping onto the pills. "You're going to get out of here...all of you and you'll find food and water". He told them.  
"How do we get out?" George asked, a glint of hope sparkling in his eyes. "Where's the water and food?"  
"Next door". John told him, "you'll get there...cause I'll fight them off".  
The others stared at him, mouths hanging open. Paul sat up and grabbed onto the young man's shirt, almost grabbing John's neck. "Don't be stupid". He spat, "you are not doing that, you idiot".  
"Macca, please". John begged, "I've made up my mind, don't change it".  
Paul let go and fell back, "no". He moaned, "no... I won't let you be so stupid!"  
"John-" Ringo began but was cut off when more of the door fell apart, Mal's face soon appeared. He and the rest, were almost through. "John, we can't let you do this!" The drummer raced towards him, "think clearly, come on!"  
"I am". John snapped, pushing the drummer off him. "Get the hell out of here". Mal was the first to come into the room and behind him, were about seven other infected people. It didn't seem like a lot but in their weak states, it looked like a mob of angry lions. John got up and looked back to his friends. "Just go, okay? Everything will be fine".  
"John...". George whispered, as he was pulled onto his feet.  
"Go!" He yelled, as he ran into the group of infected people.  
"No". Paul whispered, "this isn't-"  
"we need to go!" 

And so, they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed :D

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first beatles fic I have posted on here. My others are on Wattpad. So, don't worry if you're from there and are concerned that someone is copying my stories! :)
> 
> Enjoy!


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